


A Million Little Times

by CLeighWrites



Series: Random Song Inspired Fics [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Grace Play (Supernatural), Angst and Feels, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bottom Dean Winchester, Castiel's Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Smut, SPN Broment Bingo, SPN Quote Bingo, Sneaking Around, Song: illicit affairs (Taylor Swift), Supernatural Kink Bingo 2020, Top Castiel (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:29:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26778139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CLeighWrites/pseuds/CLeighWrites
Summary: Dean struggles with his feelings about sneaking off to see Cas.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Random Song Inspired Fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626451
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18
Collections: SPN Kink Bingo 2020





	A Million Little Times

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to Taylor Swift's folklore and got this idea in my head for the song illicit affairs. Then I went through my bingo cards and picked awkward sex from my kink bingo card; "Don't lie to me," from my broment bingo card; and “I need a hit of sucrose, I’m heading to the vending machine,” from my quote bingo card.
> 
> I used this website as an [Enochian translator](https://lingojam.com/APassableEnochianTranslator) (except for what Cas says, that came up in a Google search!)
> 
> Beta'd by Kym ([WinchesterWytch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinchesterWytch/pseuds/WinchesterWytch)) and the amazing art is by Dani ([lotrspnfangirl_graphics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotrspnfangirl_graphics/pseuds/lotrspnfangirl_graphics))

Dean always felt like his skin was crawling after a hunt. It took a while for the feeling of needing to fight for your life to dwindle to a more manageable itch. Over the years, he’d gotten used to it; it’s amazing the things one can get used to over time. He shook his head at the thought and shrugged into his jacket. 

“Sam, I’m heading out for a bit!” he yelled toward the closed bathroom door. 

He could never bear to look Sam in the eye and lie to him, knowing full well his brother could read him better than he could a book. It was always best to leave when no one could see him go. When this had first started, it ate Dean up on the inside; now, it was just a dull sort of ache that went right along with everything else he felt. 

Once the door closed, Dean felt another tingle, a welcomed and infuriating surge within him, leading him to his destination. It led him around the corner of the building, up the stairs, and down to the end of the corridor. He didn’t bother knocking, just opened the door and shut it just as quickly. Not like anyone was watching him, nor would they know who was waiting for him. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

Every time he heard that gravely voice saying that greeting, a myriad of emotions assaulted him; relief, longing, anguish, anger, grief, arousal, loathing… love. He never let himself think about any of them for long; it wouldn’t do anyone any good—wouldn’t change anything. _Feelings_ , especially _his_ feelings, should just char on the back burner; they never did anything but get people hurt. 

“Hiya, Cas.” He took a moment to look at everything in the room before he met his angel’s eyes. 

Sometimes—definitely not every time—he would get lost in the infinite depth of Cas' eyes. The eons of watching existence, the wars fought, the losses felt, the few joys won, the overwhelming sense of _being_ since the very beginning of everything. It’s incomprehensible to Dean why Cas chose to rebel for _him_. After everything he’s been through, who was _Dean_ , that Cas would choose to go against _Heaven_? 

Dean felt his resolve begin to fragment; he could stop this whenever he wanted, Cas would do whatever Dean wanted—for whatever reason. Today, though—today Dean needed this, needed _him_. He refused to feel dirty or ashamed about it, also knew _that_ was a lie; those seemed to be piling up. 

Cas stood there, like always, letting Dean work through his shit before they got started. They both knew what he was there for, the reason he had prayed to Cas, why he always prayed to him. Dean pursed his lips, said a silent ‘fuck it’, then stepped forward. He willed his fingers to still as he reached for Cas, grounding himself by pressing his hands into Cas' solid shoulders. Cas reached forward and put his hands on Dean’s hips, gently squeezed, letting him know that there was nothing wrong with what they were doing, that Dean wasn’t broken. Not any more broken than anyone else was, anyway. 

He allowed himself to indulge, diving into Cas, trying and failing to let everything he’d ever felt pour from his lips to Cas'. The hurt and pain, the feeling of abandonment and unworthiness, the passion and need and want. Dean knew at some level that Cas knew, he could tell somehow, but Dean had never said it. 

Hands scrambled for purchase as the kiss deepened, and clothes hit the floor until they both landed on the bed, bare and desperate for each other. The thing about fucking an angel was that there was no need for lube, and prep was unconventional, to say the least. Dean was sure, no matter how many times they came together, he would never get used to the pressure and feeling of something stretching him open while he was kissing Cas and both of Cas' hands were elsewhere on his body. The only thing Dean could think of to describe the feeling would be an expandable, heated vibrator. There was a warm thrumming sensation as Dean’s muscles slowly loosened and stretched around nothing—not nothing, but Cas' grace—penetrating him and getting him ready to take Cas' cock. 

Dean had long forgotten to feel emasculated by taking cock, being fucked instead of doing the fucking; being on the more submissive end of a power exchange. He had quit thinking of what his dad would think of his golden soldier boy liking to get dicked, wanting it, craving it. It had become another one of those things that Dean put on the ‘Things that are Wrong about Dean Winchester’ shelf. Sometimes the shelf would tilt, and a few things would manifest in his thoughts. Like how he shouldn’t want this angel, how it must be wrong if he felt like he had to hide it from Sam, how he was so fucked up that he couldn’t have any sort of normal relationship. 

The room started to close in on him, and Dean tried desperately to bury himself in Cas, lips on his throat, hands in his hair, arms tightening around his back to hold him as close as possible. He wrapped his legs around Cas' hips and tried to roll to have Cas' body pinning him to the bed, but only succeeded in getting his leg trapped under Cas' body. Then, when he tried to move his head to the other side of Cas' neck, Cas went in for a kiss, his chin catching Dean’s mouth and almost busting his lip open. 

Their bumbling around was reminiscent of two kids trying to figure out how they’re supposed to make out naked for the first time like they hadn’t touched each other thousands of times over the years. The trembling in his hands resumed, and Dean’s breath started coming in ragged sips of air, causing Cas to pull back from him and hold his face with both hands. Deep blue made him feel like he was drowning; he sank into the depths and struggled for oxygen. 

“Dean, breathe.”

A warmth weeded its way through Dean’s soul, smoothing jagged edges and filling holes. Slowly, the tempest of Dean’s mind settled, and the clouds receded to reveal Cas, holding him and putting him back together, yet again. 

“There you are.” Cas sounded relieved and hopeful. 

“You found me,” Dean tried to joke, it didn’t land. 

“You do want to do this? You prayed to me tha—”

“Yeah, Cas, of course, I want to do this. I walked up here, didn’t I?” Dean couldn’t reign in his agitation.

“Yes, you did, but then why are you thinking…,” he paused, knowing what he’d just admitted to, then lamely added, “what you were thinking.”

Dean could feel the anger rising in him; he hated Cas knowing what he was thinking, that he had been so distracted by his thoughts that Cas had noticed; that he was having those thoughts at all, and none of that was really Cas' fault. The anger drained out of him, and he aimed a grin at Cas. 

“Sorry, just can’t seem to get out of my head, I guess.” Dean shrugged and turned to slip out from under Cas and out of bed. He figured his attitude and thoughts and _self_ had put a wet blanket on their plans, but Cas stopped him with a firm grip on his hip.

“I can help with that,” he offered, blue eyes emploring him to stay.

Dean grit his teeth, closed his eyes, and nodded his head in acquiescence. He felt Cas' warm lips on his forehead, then the bright warmth of grace coursing through him. The light was so bright it blew out all of the darkest corners of his mind, illuminated all of the monsters that lived in his head, and chased them to the depths of his consciousness. The band that continually threatened to strangle his heart eased and Dean could breathe without feeling like he was undeserving of the privilege. For that feeling alone, Dean would ruin his whole life to be able to keep coming back for more. 

On the exhale, Dean’s smiling and damn-near laughing. He reaches behind Cas' head and pulls him into a messy kiss, all lips and tongues that barely hit their mark. They come together, finally, without Dean’s head in their way. It’s the same as it always is; Cas' grace filling him fuller than his vessel ever could, the spark of it engulfing his entire soul, setting him alight with the pure essence of _Cas_. This is what he’d needed, not just a release or a physical connection; he needed something he could only get from Cas, the feeling of being wholly seen and connected on an actual spiritual level. 

They laugh when Dean goes to adjust his position, and Cas' dick slips out, and it takes them a little while to get their groove back. It’s always so easy with Cas. They don’t have to try. There’s no trying to impress each other, no way of hiding; they’ve been through too much together. Even when things didn’t quite go perfectly, it was still the two of them.

When Dean was a sweaty mess, veins and soul buzzing with want and need and euphoria, he tapped Cas' shoulder. At their signal, Cas thrust into him deeper and harder and faster until his eyes glowed with grace, the light so blue it was white to Dean’s eye. Dean felt the hot rush of Cas' orgasm shoot through him as they both came undone. They both shuddered and shook with their culmination and clung to each other, lips and bodies and souls connected for a few moments longer. 

In the back of Dean’s mind, he knew they couldn’t keep meeting and fucking, then going back to normal afterward. He was pretty sure Sam had already figured it out and was being polite by not mentioning it. All the digs from the other angels meant that those winged dicks definitely knew what was going on; they couldn’t keep it up. He felt like such an idiot for thinking they could have even a shred of happiness together. 

Cas spoke from his place in Dean’s neck. “Olani hoath o—”

“Ag,” Dean responded automatically in Enochian, stopping Cas' capricious confession.

The last thing he needed was for Cas to start feeling like he had to tell him he loved him after they fucked; he wasn’t that pathetic and needy. He’s not even sure when it was he began to understand, let alone speak the language of the angels. It was probably around the same time he realized that grace was a brilliant blue that was barely perceptible by humans, which is why it always looked white. 

Refusing to lie in Cas' arms until his heartrate settled, Dean slid out from under Cas and rolled out of bed. Before he could make it to the end of the bed, Cas appeared fully clothed and was handing Dean his clothes, as if nothing had happened, except that Dean’s ass was pleasantly sore, and he was butt-ass naked. He pushed down the resentment and embarrassment that he knew was unwarranted, tried to put on a smile for his friend.

He accepted the clothes and began to redress. “Thanks, pal.” Dean hated the sound of his voice, equal parts wrecked and contrite. 

Cas smiled sadly. “You’re very welcome, Dean. Are you oka—”

“‘m fine, Cas. See you around.” 

He made his way to the door and turned to look at Cas one more time until whenever the next time they would see each other again would be. Cas nodded at him, and after the next blink, he was gone. Dean ran his fingers through his hair and made sure his collar was pulled up, just in case, on his way back to Sam and his room. 

He opened the door and found Sam sitting at the table with bags of food laid out, which he gestured for Dean to help himself to. 

“So,” Sam started around a bite of fruit from his chicken salad, why it had fruit in it was beyond Dean’s comprehension, “how was your clandestine meeting with Cas?”

Dean started as he unwrapped his double bacon cheeseburger. “My what?”

“Come on, Dean. Don’t lie to me. I know you go off sometimes to spend time with Cas. Usually, you’re in a lot better mood when you come back, though. Did something happen?”

Damn, Sam, and his perceptiveness. “If you know so much, you tell me.” 

He takes an abnormally large bite out of his burger to indicate his lack of wanting to participate in this conversation, specifically. 

“Dean, I don’t care that you go do, whatever you do, with Cas. I don’t even wanna know, but… I just wanted you to know that you can tell me, you don’t have to keep it a secret. I’m actually a little offended that it’s been going on so long, and you haven’t told me.”

“What do you want me to say, Sam? I’m getting dicked by our very own guardian angel?” Sam made a face. “Exactly, that’s what I thought.” He takes another large bite, and he’s, thankfully, almost finished with the burger. 

“Dean.” Sam whips out the big guns with a bitch-face and the puppy dog-eyes. “I told you I don’t care, but that doesn’t mean I want all the details. I just wish you’d have told me, is all.”

Dean swallows his last bite of burger, looks at the soggy looking fries, and his stomach turns them down without needing to try them. 

“I need a hit of sucrose; I’m heading to the vending machine.” Without a second glance at the rest of the food, or his brother, Dean opens the door and steps out into the fresh, night air.

He hated that he needed Cas so much, not just for the amazing sex, or the Vulcan mind-meld thing, but for that other feeling he got when they were close. How was he supposed to put any of that into words to explain it to Sam? Not that he was asking for any kind of explanation, but part of Dean had always felt so bad for lying to him, he felt like if he could explain it, Sam would understand, and Dean would be even less alone in all of this. Dean knew he should end it, had thought about it a million times; he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Don't be shy; let me know what you think!


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